


Awakening

by halotolerant



Category: Tintin
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small fluffy Tintin/Haddock moment</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss M (missm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/gifts).



An owl hoots as it sweeps past the house and Tintin opens his eyes, shifting little, starting to reach out; he’s not in his own bed.

Warmth next to him, sprawled alongside his body, warm skin and the scent of the man, the only familiar thing in the whole situation.

Turning over slowly, more frightened than he can account for, he looks up at Haddock.

The Captain’s expression is one Tintin has scarcely seen before; if he ever caught him in it, Haddock would smile or frown or look away. Now, he keeps a steady gaze. He looks... gentle. Tender. Cautious.

His hand glides along Tintin’s hair, over the curve of his ear, tracing the angle of his jaw and down to the hollow of his neck, moving with his throat as Tintin swallows, mouth dry.

Adrenaline is creeping up under Tintin’s skin, a thousand bright sparks of life; he hears himself moan and has to think to open his eyes again.

He grips the eiderdown more firmly, aware that he’s blushing from his face to the roots of his hair, clear down his neck. What on earth is he supposed to say? How can it be so hard to find something to talk about, with all that has just passed between them?

“You’ve never done that before,” Haddock murmurs, not unkindly. There’s a wonder in his voice that tugs in something deep in Tintin’s chest, making him want to sit up and kiss and be kissed again. He’s never felt like that with _anyone_ , had started to think maybe he wasn’t designed to feel like that at all.

The first time he met Captain Haddock, the man was a drunk, a ruin. Almost more trouble than he was worth, or so he seemed. So he ought to have seemed.

But the drink hadn’t held him long – later, over many different days, Tintin had learnt this – and that was why he still had the solid, broad-shouldered body of a fighter, whipcord muscles in his arms.

Tintin had noticed this. He told himself he was observant, that he always assessed potential allies or enemies for their physical abilities.

Now, feeling bold, he runs his fingers up the side of Haddock’s arm, along the anchor tattoo, across the planes of muscle he knows from a hundred days of camping, washing, living together over half the surface of the Earth – looking not touching - and wonders if he ever fooled himself or only fooled himself that he did.

“Never before,” he confirms, not quite able to look Haddock in the eye. “Not any of it, not... I’ve never even kissed anybody.”

His lips are swollen, he can feel them under his tongue.  Haddock’s body tenses against him as he licks them, which is enough to make every one of his muscles thrill in echo.

Haddock’s mouth had been warm, so very warm, against his own. He remembers making noises, an embarrassing variety of noises, because it was... it had felt...

Sometimes he feels older than Haddock, certainly wiser.

Sometimes he feels so very young.

Haddock’s voice is very soft. For all his bluff and bluster he may be the sweetest man Tintin has ever known, just as for all his fault he is a good man, one of the best. “Did you like it?”

Tintin gazes up at him, amazed to feel his eyes filling, an ache in his chest both terrible and wonderful.

Haddock waits, watching him. Their hands meet, fingers curling together until Tintin brings them both to his mouth, presses his lips against them.

“I think I may need practice,” he answers at last. “I mean... I liked it very much.”

Haddock’s face breaks into a smile, then a joyful laugh and Tintin happily joins in, and suddenly he is being kissed again – already, already he’d forgotten just how _hot_ it felt – and the rush is creeping over his body, bringing him _alive_ all over like electricity, like nothing else ever has.

When they pause again, Haddock’s hands are still stroking his back. “Tintin, you do know that...”

Tintin kisses him again, quickly, because he can. “Tell me.”

“You know that, as long as you can put up with having a pickled Sea Dog around, I will never, ever let anything take me away from you?”

Tintin feels like he can barely breathe.

“Is that... alright?”

One day Tintin is going to find words. One day he promises himself he’ll sit down and tell him, speak all the longing and love he’s never been able to express.

“Much better than alright,” he whispers, for now. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He feels like he could watch Haddock look at him like that forever. But sleepiness is creeping up on him again and he doesn’t fight it. Here, now, he doesn’t have to fight anything.

Resting his head on Haddock’s chest, Tintin closes his eyes and starts to think of all the marvellous things two men who’ve been to the Moon and back still have to do together.

\- - -


End file.
